[h3]Arkadios[/h3]

It was a long hose, designed to be dangled into the sea to draw on water for ballast and it had been just long enough to reach the nearby stream.  But it was designed to be winched on and off, rather than dragged across the ground and moving it had been heavy work.  Arkadios paused for a few moments, sitting down on the root of a tree.  It was an idylic setting, an unruly mass of willow and plane trees fringing the banks, the trill of cicadas split the air.  It was going to be a hot day to be moving gold from inside the castle.

Slowly the Captain began working his way back, checking for kinks in the hose that might stop the water from flowing back up to the ship.  Unlike some of the others, Arkadios was less worried about a sudden ambush by Communalists.  This part of the country was still, nominally, under Imperial control, though from what chaotic orders he had received in the retreat, he assumed most forces were being pulled back to form a perimeter around the old fortress at Grendell.  The Communalists were, for the most part, racing down the coast, hoping, he assumed, to capture Grendell before Imperial forces were able to reorganise.  Perhaps the Empire would dig in, or perhaps they would launch a counter-attack.  Either way the gold would come in handy in keeping the legitimate Government able to function.

He glanced up at the airship, pulling his cap away to wipe his brow.  It was a magnificent feat of engineering, hull gleaming silver in the morning sun.  In theory they could sail back up to Grendell, maybe be there in a day, deliver the gold and rejoin the fight on the ground... but when was life ever that simple?